Second Chance Brides (12 page)

Gathering her courage, she voiced a question. “Why does your brother not keep the books?”

Mark’s lips pursed. “Garrett doesn’t have an eye for figures and accounting.”

She wasn’t sure she did, either, but now that she was here, she would learn. She had to. Her independence and her very life depended on it. Having two unmarried men support her was humiliating and certainly not proper.

“So, does that make sense to you?”

Shannon’s heart leapt. What had he just said? She’d been lost in her thoughts and not following along. “I…uh…”

Mark rubbed his hand across his cleanly shaven jaw and heaved a sigh. “Look, it’s fairly simple when you’ve done it a while.”

After his initial outburst, Mark seemed resolved to have her there, but she felt if he had his druthers, she wouldn’t be. And if she could have walked out with dignity, she’d be gone. But Garrett hadn’t taken her hint about leaving; in fact,
he
left without her, leaving her alone with his brother.

Shannon held her trembling hands in her lap. Every time the man came close, she shivered like she had in the frigid hull of that ship that had brought her family to America. To their deaths.

Mark opened a ledger book about two feet wide, sending up the scent of leather and old paper. He riffled through the large pages and stopped at the last page with entries. The date was two days before the tornado had hit.

“All right. In this book we keep track of each individual transaction, each thing someone orders. That’s the file box over there where we file the order forms when we’re done.” He pointed to a rectangular metal holder sitting on a counter against the wall. The box had sheets of yellow paper standing upright in it, separated by metal dividers. “We record what each person has ordered on an ongoing basis.”

She tried to wrap her mind around what he’d said, but she failed to see how the ledger and file box were different.

He moved around and sat on the edge of the desk, cradling his wounded hand with his other one. His cast looked awkward and uncomfortable. “Do you understand? If you don’t, ask questions.”

He stared at her. Oh, she had questions, but she hadn’t learned enough to voice what they were yet. Maybe if he explained some more, she’d catch on.

He scratched his head and stared out the window. Shannon took a moment to study him. His jawline was more finely etched than his brother’s, and his nose had a perfect slant. Both men had almost the same hair and the exact same eye color, though Mark’s shorter dark blond hair had a curl that Garrett’s didn’t, tickling his collar in an enticing manner. He turned back to face her, and for a moment, she couldn’t look away. Her breath caught at the intensity of his gaze. She loved the color of his eyes—a cross between the light blue Texas sky and a robin’s egg—and they made her heart jump each time she looked into them. She might live a short life if that kept happening. Her heart could only take so much.

Breaking from his gaze, she looked down at the ledgers. How could she be thinking such thoughts about the man who didn’t even want her here?

He cleared his throat. “Let’s…uh, get back to work.” He opened the middle desk drawer on the right side, pulled out a stack of papers, then shut it with his leg. “These are the orders for supplies. See how Mr. Foster’s names is atop this one?”

Shannon nodded and noted the order for wood.

“This page shows Foster’s order for a wagonload of lumber. This column shows the type of wood, this one the quantity, then the length, and the price. You record each of those in the appropriate columns on the ledger. Pretty simple.”

Simple enough, if her mind wasn’t befuddled by his nearness. His clean scent wafted around her every time he moved. She’d never known a man could smell so fresh. Even his clothing was spotless and wrinkle free.

“Miss O’Neil, do you need to take a break?”

“Nay, I’m…uh…beginning to understand. Perhaps if you’d permit me to record a few transactions, it would become clearer.”

Mark nodded. He crossed the room, grabbed his brother’s chair, and hauled it next to hers. Shannon’s heart thudded like a dancer’s feet pounding out a fast-paced jig. How could she concentrate when he was so near?

“All right. List Foster’s name in the first column.”

She dipped the pen in the ink bottle and did as asked, taking heed to make her printing neat.

“Now, see how he ordered different lengths and sizes of wood? Look across the top columns of the ledger and find the correct size of wood, then go across on Foster’s line and record the amount ordered. There are columns for the other things people most often order, but if you can’t find what you need, use the last column. There’s room to write in the item description, if you write small. Try to be neat, because this is our permanent record.”

She nodded, but his emphasis on neatness made her hand shake. She hadn’t had call to write anything other than her name since coming to America. Pushing her fretful thoughts away, she recorded another entry. She dipped her pen into the bottle, and Mark heaved a boisterous sneeze. Shannon jumped. The bottle tipped sideways. Her hand shot toward it, but the ink spilled across the desk in a spreading pond.

Mark muttered something she couldn’t make out and grabbed the ledger. “Bottom drawer. Ink blotters.”

She tugged hard on the lowest drawer, pulled out a stack of blotting papers, and dabbed at the mess.

“Don’t push on it.” Mark snatched a stack of papers off the pile. “You have to dab it, or you’ll press it into the wood.”

Shannon sat back, feeling like the village
eejit
. She’d been here less than an hour and had already made a mess of things. Looking down to avoid Mark’s glare, she sucked in a gasp. The ink on her hands had stained her dress. How would she ever get it out?

Mark threw the dirty blotters into the trash can. The pool of ink was gone, but a nasty stain marred his immaculate desk.

He shoved his hands to his hips and stared at it. Finally, he looked up at her. “I knew this wasn’t a good idea.”

He stormed out the back door, letting the screen slam. Shannon jumped. She wanted to flee back to her room at the boardinghouse, but she was stuck in Mark’s chair. Tears blurred her eyes, but she forced them away. If she swiped at them, she’d probably end up with ink on her face. Oh, what a nightmare.

Leah had told her she needed to toughen up if she was going to survive living in Texas. But that possibility looked far slimmer now. Surely Mark would dismiss her, and if he didn’t, how could she face him again?

A few minutes later, the bell over the door jangled. Shannon glanced up to see Rachel enter, carrying a teapot and two tin cups.

“How’s it going so far?” Rachel’s smile slipped from her face as she stared at Shannon. “What did those yahoos do?”

Shannon shook her head. “’Twasn’t them. ’twas me.” She waved her ink-stained hand over the large blotch. “Not here one whole hour, and I’ve ruined Mr. Corbett’s desk.”

Rachel hurried over and set the teapot down on a clean corner of the desk. “Oh, dear. Is that why the men are gone?”

“Garrett left Mark and me alone right after dropping me off.” She glanced down at her hands. “He hadn’t even mentioned me to his brother. Mark was not happy at all about me being here. And then this happened.”

Rachel sat in Garrett’s chair and took Shannon’s hand. “Things aren’t as bad as they might seem. I’ve got a spare apron you can wear over your dress to hide the stain, and I would imagine the men can sand out the stain on the desk.”

Shannon’s heart flip-flopped. “You truly think it can be removed? I feel like an
eejit
for making such a mess.”

Rachel smiled. “I’m afraid I have no idea what that is, but I’m sure you aren’t one.”

“I believe you say idiot or imbecile.”

“Well, I know for certain you’re not one of those. Let’s have our tea before it’s cold. Then I’ll find Luke, and he can help you back home.”

Home
. Shannon liked the sound of that, but the boardinghouse wasn’t her home. It was only a place she was staying until she could make it on her own or find a husband. In truth, she had no home.

Rachel held the lid to the pretty teapot covered with violets and ivy and poured tea into both cups. “I apologize for bringing tin cups, but I was afraid I’d break the china ones if I tried to lug them down here along with the pot.”

“’Tis fine. Thank you for thinking of me. I’m very glad you came when you did.”

Rachel set a steaming cup of tea in front of her. Shannon sipped it, allowing the warmth to soothe her. “I don’t know if I should be leavin’ or stayin’. I need this job, but I don’t think Mark Corbett wants me here.”

“Maybe I could talk to him. I’ve known the Corbett brothers since I was a girl, and they’re practically my relatives now. It’s not like Mark to be unkind or inhospitable. He’s a good man with a big heart. Far more patient and tolerant than most.”

Shannon tried to get Rachel’s description to match what she’d seen of Mark Corbett, but it didn’t. Yes, he’d rescued her during the storm but had done so begrudgingly. And he’d been angry at her ever since, casting stormy looks her way whenever he saw her. For some reason, she brought out the worst of him. “I don’t believe he wants me working here, but I so need the employment.”

“Mark will come around. He doesn’t like it when Garrett pulls something over on him.” Rachel sipped her tea and gazed toward the window. “I don’t know if you can tell, but Garrett is the oldest. Mark is the solid one, though, and Garrett is…well, let’s just say he hasn’t fully grown up yet.”

Shannon smiled at that. “He does behave more like a lad.”

“Yes.” Rachel nodded. “Mark has always felt he followed in Garrett’s shadow. Their pa didn’t like that Mark could read and was studious, especially when he couldn’t read and thought book learning was for womenfolk.”

Swallowing hard, Shannon remembered how she had tried to please her da, but nothing she ever did made him happy. He’d wanted a son, not a wee lass. She ducked her head as the unpleasant memories of him repeating that every time she angered him made her tears burn her eyes. They were not so much different, she and Mark. Perhaps she’d misjudged him. All she’d done was cause him trouble, albeit not intentionally. She needed to prove to him that she had value. That she could ease his burden and do the work he needed her to do.

“I don’t want to paint Garrett as a bad person. He has a good heart, but he just gets too carried away with his teasing and prank-pulling.”

“Like when he ordered all of us brides for your husband.”

Rachel’s cheeks flamed. “Yes, like that. He wanted to help Luke get over me, but God had other plans.” Rachel reached across the desk and laid her hand over Shannon’s wrist. “I believe God used Garrett’s scheming to get you and Miss Bennett to come to Lookout because He has plans for you here.”

“Truly, you believe that?” A flame of hope flickered within Shannon’s heart. Did she dare believe that her very steps had been orchestrated by the hand of God? She believed in God but felt He’d turned his face from her.

Rachel nodded and smiled, her pale blue eyes shining. “I believe it with all of my heart. If God can work the miracle He did to reunite Luke and me, it’s a small thing for Him to bring you here—maybe to give you a husband, too.”

Shannon so wanted to believe, but God had not answered many of her prayers since she’d come to America. Her parents had died in spite of the many pleas she’d sent heavenward. She’d lost the man she’d hoped to marry, and at the same time her only hope of support. And now she may well have lost her job.

Maybe if she could prove her worth, Mark might let her stay.

Rachel stood and stretched. “I’d better get back home and start on dinner. Noon will be here before we know it. I’ll find Luke and have him come and get you.”

“Nay, I’ll stay, but if I’m not back by dinner, could you please send the marshal for me?”

Rachel nodded but stared at her with concerned eyes. “Are you certain?”

Shannon nodded. “If you could just hand me that ledger on Garrett’s desk, perhaps I can show the Corbett brothers that I’m an asset and not a liability.”